I haven’t made an official announcement on here, although many of those who read this blog already know – I have started a second blog, called Sex, Gods, and Rock Stars. As I have discussed on here before, in Pushing the Limits, I wanted a place where I could write about all the other aspects of my life – spirit work, sacred sex/kink, being an educator/presenter, ordeal, etc. Dying for a Diagnosis was always meant to be a very specific, topical blog: a place for me to talk about my medical condition as well as the spiritual aspects of chronic illness, dying, and death.

I hope it’s clear (but I know it’s not) that this – this blog and what it discusses – is far from everything to know about me. I was engaged in an online discussion today about how, because what they know of me mostly comes from here, they assumed that I am consumed by my illness. That somehow I am unable to live up to simple obligations, like having a conversation at an event, because I have limited spoons. I also have had events start to try to artificially limit my involvement because the organizers read this blog and think, “Well, if you’re that sick, we shouldn’t ask that much of you.”

This blog is not a journal. What I write here is a very specific subset of all that I am, experience, or know. This blog is a devotional act; I asked Baphomet to assist with my dying process, and S/he asked that I write about it in exchange. This is not the repository of all that is Del, or even a reliable source of understanding what my day-to-day existence is like. In fact, sometimes I end up taking long DfaD breaks because nothing interesting is going on in regards to my medical stuff.

I do have some things to talk about, medically, for those who are interested.

So as you guys know, I usually hate asking lay people for medical advice. I get more unsolicited advice than someone who publishes their phone number in the newspaper. However, I had these skin irritations that looked an awful lot like psoriasis, and I happened to have a friend with psoriasis, so I asked them if they thought that’s what it was. (It’s worthy to note that these irritations happen to be on a part of the body I need a mirror to see.) They flatly denied it, over and over again. So I kept trying to treat them with OTC creams and ointments, but they continued to itch and flake and be irritated for months.

In other skin related news, I developed these odd brown spots during a recent camping-in-a-campground trip. They weren’t bug bites or burns, and I had three of them (two on my arm and one on my breast). They just appeared one day and have faded a little, but not healed. They are definitely not bruises, either.

So finally, between the two things, I broke down and made an appointment to see a dermatologist. I saw Dr. David Lee in Damascus, and I highly recommend him. He was pleasant, efficient, and his office was very pretty. There’s something about dermatology (especially if you watch Grey’s Anatomy and remember the derm thing) that screams luxury, which is probably why I put this off for so long.

It turned out that the irritations are psoriasis. ::shakes head:: I need to listen to my gut more often. They will likely never fully go away, and I may develop more spots like these over time. It’s not uncommon for people with immune system issues to develop psoriasis, as it is in itself an immune dysfunction. I got some steroidal cream for them and it seems to be working well.

The doc was pretty sure the brown dots are nothing to be worried about, but the scary word “biopsy” was thrown around a lot. We decided in the end to wait three months, and when he checks on my psorasis he’ll also see if they’re still there – and if they are, it’s ‘take a bite out of Del’ time. Great. This will be the fourth cancer scare I’ve been through. Whoopie.

Anyway, there’s your medical update. Please go look at the other blog, and maybe subscribe to the updates there, too. I’d really like it if you online stalkers got a much more rounded view of who I am and what my life is like. Also, I write about sex. You like sex, right?